Fixed
by mebbesumday
Summary: It's not as though the Doctor doesn't owe a favor or two himself.


He was falling. There was a lot to think about, and not a lot of time with which to think.

There was the ground. A flash of light.

He closed his eyes.

He waited.

* * *

"Well, look at _that_!" An annoyingly chipper voice stirred Sherlock from his slumber. "It worked! On the first try! Nothing like a good first try."

Sherlock moaned and removed himself from face-full of cold, metal floor. Rubbing his temples, he tried to think. It wasn't easy. The world was spinning and he felt a little dizzy. And that awful, sunny, familiar voice was getting louder and louder.

"Ah! Sherlock! It's good to see you again. Surprising me with your antics _as_ _always_ - oh. Well, haven't you gotten taller. What year is it again?"

"Doctor, tell me why you're here," the dark-haired man slowly stood up to his full height and found himself a bit taller than his old acquaintance. To be fair, the mad man with a box hadn't come around since the consulting detective was a sixteen-year-old terror at boarding school.

Eccentric and interesting, the Time Lord had grown on Sherlock when the TARDIS landed in his room all those years ago with a mystery - the location of River Song. Even back then, Sherlock had found himself in the acquaintance of the strange and powerful, including a curly-haired woman who liked to warn him about spoilers.

Luckily, the boy had managed to keep the secret while pointing the Doctor in the right direction. After all, the Leadworth crop circles had been front-page news, and handing the man a copy of the Chronicle was hardly a _spoiler_.

"That depends..." The Doctor twiddled his thumbs and looked a little guilty. "Where do you think you are?"

"I think I _was _on the roof of Bart's and now I'm in -"

Oh no. The roof.

"Doctor. _Doctor_, what have you _done_?" Sherlock clenched his fists and growled. "If this is how you're trying to repay me, this is not what I asked for! If Moriarty's men don't see me die, they'll kill them - Misses Hudson, John, Lestrade, _all_ of them. It was all worked out with Molly Hooper. Why did you interfere? Where am I?"

The Doctor stepped backwards, his hands in front of him to protect himself from the very angry, and now very tall man advancing on him.

"N - now, Sherlock. Look. Really look."

Sherlock paused to look around. Metal everywhere. A thick bracelet with a green light wrapped around his wrist. A round window that let him peer outside, and if he stepped to the very edge of the railing, he could hear -

"Oh, Jesus no. God, no."

John's voice. That was John's voice, and those were John's shoes, and that was John falling down trying to get to what should have been him lying on the sidewalk.

Sherlock had no ideas. What was going on?

"I was a little worried."

The consulting detective spun around in shock and came face to face with a blonde, shy pathologist.

"Molly?"

"I mean, I'm pretty sure you would have just let yourself get sucked in. Ninety-nine percent sure, but I figured it was safer this way."

Molly Hooper stood next to the grinning Doctor and gestured at the Teselecta they were currently standing in. Sherlock opened his mouth to grumble out some sort of irritation, but snapped it shut. He wasn't sure what to say.

"The pills really were for sleep," Molly continued. "But, mostly, they were to keep you from fighting the miniaturization process. It's kind of weird the first time around. I didn't know that you were already acquainted with the Doctor."

The idiot in a bow tie waggled his fingers at Sherlock and the younger man sighed.

"So you've called in a favor in order to save my life," Sherlock frowned. "Well done, Miss Hooper. Was it your father?"

"Both of us," Molly looked down. "Before he got sick, we... We helped the Doctor out of a little scrape up north. The both of us. I had my own adventures, even before you came along, you know."

"It was an _excellent_ treasure hunt!" The Doctor piped in. "You would've liked it."

"Hm."

They could all tell that Sherlock wasn't entirely present. As the Teselecta was being wheeled away on an emergency cot, all he could do was stare out the eye socket at John as he faded into the distance.

"Uhm. Well," Molly looked around sheepishly, and then at the Doctor. "I should probably be going then. I need to be in the morgue when they wheel _you_ in."

The pathologist looked up at the consulting detective hopefully, but he was still staring out the window, even though John had long since faded away. She smiled sadly and followed the Doctor into the TARDIS.

"Good luck, Sherlock."

* * *

"All right, all _right_!" The Doctor fiddled with the levers and buttons on the control panel. "We'll go now instead of waiting. Just stop _experimenting_ on _my_ TARDIS!"

Sherlock smirked. Well, he did a reasonable impression of one anyway. He'd gone through nearly every room in the Doctor's ship, trying to keep himself occupied until his own funeral. Eight whole days still, and he hadn't slept for three. He was going stir crazy. How was he to know that mixing up all the books in the library would make the old girl angry enough to jettison another squash court?

"You know you can't talk to him, right?"

The Doctor materialized in front of Sherlock and was uncharacteristically serious. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Before you interfered in my business, Doctor, not talking to John about faking my death was part of the plan. I just want to see... see how he's doing."

"No, Sherlock, I mean you _can't talk to him_. No secret messages. No hints. No letting him know through someone else telling someone else telling someone else to leave a note on his bedside table or any of your clever tricks. You _can't talk to him_. Not until you're done."

"Done with what?" Sherlock glowered, irritated that he had been so transparent. Of course, when your opponent in banter had a good eight hundred and fifty years on you, it was to be expected.

The Doctor looked up from a knob on the control panel and straightened his bowtie with a grin.

"Well. I'd imagine with whatever you were planning to do before I _interfered_ with your business."

Sherlock crossed his arms. The Doctor looked tired and sighed.

"This is a fixed point in time. You can fudge it a little bit, but you can't change things entirely. These few months, or years, or however long you're faking dead, these are the times that everyone finds themselves, including you.

"Now don't give me a look like that, Sherly - ah! No _strangling_, it makes the old girl nervous when fights break out in here. I know you prefer to work alone, but look at what you've become. A leader. Of a team. And they all work under _your_ orders.

"Now imagine that team, each member growing stronger, through pain and sadness and struggle. Without their leader, and the glue that makes these ragtag misfits all stick together, they'll grow up by themselves and your team - the one that fights for good - will be all the greater when you come back, stronger than ever. And imagine how happy they'll be to find you alive when everyone is safe again."

Sherlock pursed his lips.

"Their _leader_. The leader of the team for _good_," the consulting detective scoffed. "It's as though everyone believes me to be on the side of the angels these days."

"No, _no_," the Doctor shuddered visibly as the TARDIS grinded to a halt. "I would _never_ say that. Well, _Sherlock_, here we are. You'll have a few minutes before John shows up. Don't disturb time while I'm away. And try not to look so beat up next time I pop in."

"Oh, so we'll be seeing each other again," Sherlock quirked an eyebrow as he stepped behind a tree to observe his newly erected tombstone.

The Doctor winked as he closed the door to the TARDIS.

"I do love a good wedding."

* * *

In the years to come, there would be very few days more precious to John Watson than this one. His best friend, Sherlock Holmes, that git, was alive, and had just acted as best man at his wedding. He'd just been officially wed to Mary, the love of his life. Misses Hudson was dancing jovially, although a bit tipsy, with Greg in the middle of the dance floor. Molly had even managed to steal Sherlock off for a quick twirl. And Harry was currently in the middle of a friendly flirt with his wife, but today that was forgivable.

There was just one last thing to take care of. John walked up to a man dancing wildly, and badly, in his own corner of the floor. He was wearing the most ridiculous top hat, but it went well with his tuxedo.

"Want to step outside for a bit?"

The man beamed at John and stood at attention.

"Yes, sir!" The Doctor flamboyantly whipped off his top hat and saluted. The gray-haired man couldn't help but chuckle.

* * *

"I almost thought you forgot your promise," John leaned against the brick outside the church. It vibrated against his back from the din of the music inside.

"Forgot? How could I forget the army surgeon that took a bullet for me?" The Doctor eyed John's shoulder and winced a little bit. "Erm... Didn't put you in therapy for too long, did it?"

John threw his head back and laughed.

"No, no, not at all. In fact, I think that bullet got me exactly where I needed to be. I suppose you've crash landed that blasted TARDIS into a few other wars since the last time we met."

"Oh, you have no idea."

John smiled and scuffed the heel of his shoe against the concrete. A question weighed heavily against the back of his mind, but he didn't want to sound ungrateful to the man that had just saved his best friend. Even if John had had to wait those excruciating months to find out that he was still alive.

"He had to make the decision to jump," the Doctor said suddenly, as though sensing John's trepidation. "Fixed point in time and all that. The very second Sherlock Holmes realizes how important his friends are to him, and the months after, where his friends learn that even without him, they are still _great_."

He pulled at his bowtie and wagged a finger at John.

"Doesn't mean he had to _die_ for everyone to come to that realization, though."

"Sounds like you've had experience with it," John snickered.

"I've had experience with a lot of things!" The Doctor jokingly stuck his nose up in the air. Then, he looked back at John with a curious expression on his face. "But, you know, I've never experienced such a loud distress call from people like you lot."

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes, very rarely, impossible things just happen, and we call them miracles," the Doctor was smiling gently now, although his brow was still furrowed. "I have never, _ever_ had so many people make wishes that interlocked so perfectly, so beautifully that they could all be tied up with one big bow."

"If you didn't frequent London so often, perhaps you wouldn't owe so many favors."

John jumped a foot as a baritone voice cut through the air.

"Sherlock!" The new groom scrambled to stand in front of the TARDIS in the alley. He turned around to see a large number of his wedding party staring at him. "Ah, _everyone_! J-just talking to an old friend, I'll see you all in a mo -"

"Oh, dear, the Doctor is very old, but that's no need to point it out to everybody," Misses Hudson, a bit flushed, scolded tenderly.

"And, really, if we were going to meet again at a wedding, what other wedding would I willingly attend," Sherlock added.

John looked at his friends, aghast, and spun around to face the Doctor.

"You...?" John squeaked.

"Yes!" The Doctor answered brightly.

"_All_ of them? You know _all_ of them?"

"Indeed!"

"Sherlock?"

"A fine detective if I do say so myself."

"Mycroft?"

"The British government himself, and very helpful when he wants to be."

"Greg?"

"Just because he's an Inspector here doesn't mean he's not useful elsewhere in the galaxy."

"Molly?"

"Handy with a needle and thread even when she was a kid!"

"_Misses Hudson_?!"

"Well, she's not my housekeeper," the Doctor swooped down on the old woman to give her a kiss on the cheek. "But _no one_ makes a better cuppa. Especially not in the middle of an asteroid belt!"

The old Time Lord looked fondly at the motley group in front of him. They had come from all walks of life, all with different goals, different ideals, and somehow had caused a miracle that called him to the roof of a London hospital.

"And every single one of you, every _great, incredible, awesome_ one of you made essentially the same wish," the Time Lord grinned widely. "Doctor, please save _them_. Them! Isn't it wonderful? When all is down and out, you strange lot go and make my day a little brighter. Crazy how these things happen, really."

Suddenly, the phone rang from inside the TARDIS. A light bulb seemed to go up over The Doctor's head and he looked at his wrist.

"Well, look at the time!" He exclaimed. "John, that was probably one of the _best_ weddings I have _ever_ been to! Sherlock, Mycroft, Greg, Molly, Misses Hudson, it was _lovely_ to see all of you again!"

"Not going to stay for more cake?" Sherlock teased in a deadpan voice, casting a knowing glance at a few crumbs on the Doctor's lapel.

"You know I'd love to, but unfortunately I've got to see someone about an Ood. Don't miss me too much! I imagine we'll be seeing each other soon."

"You'll be back?" John yelled back, as the TARDIS started up its engines.

"At the final bow!" The Doctor shouted as the TARDIS started to dematerialize. "Ask Sherly!"

"_Doctor_," Sherlock muttered dangerously.

A cheery laugh filled the air and soon there was nothing in the alleyway except a group of friends brought together by miracles, enjoying the music of sweet happiness that would last for now.

* * *

_Author's Note: It is with the heaviest of hearts that I inform you that I am not the creative owner of BBC's Sherlock or Doctor Who, nor am I one of Baker Street's or the TARDIS's residents myself. However, I do hope that you enjoyed Fixed, the first crossover that I've tried. If y'all notice any inconsistencies or have any suggestions, feel free to point them out._

_Best,_

_MebbeSumday _


End file.
